


We Don't Even Know Why

by hellaskye



Series: Clintasha Week [1]
Category: Black Widow (Comics), Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Clint Barton Sings, Clintasha - Freeform, Clintasha Week, Clintasha week 2017, Deaf Clint Barton, F/M, Fluff, Natasha is trying to sleep, Song fic, they cute as hell n shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 17:42:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11605638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellaskye/pseuds/hellaskye
Summary: Day One: Quotes and Lyrics“Funny how the stars crossed right, ‘cause we work so well, and we don’t even know why”- Why, Sabrina Carpenter.my first work for Clintasha Week 2017! A look at Clint and Natasha and the quirks that make them work.





	We Don't Even Know Why

**Author's Note:**

> hey all! I have not given up on my Stucky fic I promise. It's coming, i'm j going slow and steady :)
> 
> but i am doing Clintasha week this year! peep my tumblr [here](http://www.itskatebishops.tumblr.com)
> 
> if you haven't heard this song, i highly recommend it! it's a bop, look up Why by Sabrina Carpenter. luv ya all :) onward!

 

  1. _You like New York City in the daytime, I like New York City in the nighttime_ :



 

“It’s pretty,” Natasha insisted. There was a crackling sound as Clint sighed from his perch atop a NYC skyscraper and Nat grinned. She was baiting him, he knew, but he took it anyway.

“It’s  _ bright _ . It’s prettier at night, with all the lights and the shadows and the streetlife,” Clint ranted. He watched her follow their mark deftly through the New York streets. She could multitask, so he continued. “Plus, it’s not so hot at night during the summer, and during the winter, they have christmas lights everywhere, and the decor all looks prettier once it gets dark. “

“Okay, Barton,” Nat said dryly, taking off after the target at a run and shooting off some widow bites.

 

  1. _You say you like sleeping with the air off, I don’t. I need it on._



 

“Babe, it’s hot,” Clint groaned, kicking the sheet off his sweaty body. Nat barely stirred, but he knew it was an act. She slept like a cat, there was nothing she missed. “ _ Natasha. _ I know you’re awake.”

She chuckled sleepily, turning over to face him. “It’s hot now. As soon as you fall asleep, you’ll get cold, and you’ll want a blanket.”

“But I  _ can’t _ fall asleep,” Clint nearly whined. “It’s too hot. I’m sticky.”

“You’re a child,” Natasha muttered, but without any ire. She heaved herself up and walked out of the room. Seconds later, the HVAC system whirred to life, and half a minute later, Nat returned, a blanket in her arms. She settled back in the bed, blanket wrapped around her, and Clint wrapped himself around the Natasha-burrito. 

“Thanks, Tash,” he murmured sleepily, already drifting off to sleep. 

And if he stole her blanket a few hours later, she didn’t even mention it.

 

  1. _You like the light coming through the windows, I sleep late so I just keep them all closed._



 

“Hey sleepyhead,” Tasha quipped as Clint finally stumbled out of the bedroom, nearly sixteen hours after they’d gotten home. To be fair, it had been a tough mission, but Nat had likely been up and responsive after only nine hours of rest. Clint knew he hadn’t even stirred until well after twelve. To be fair, Natasha had managed to sneak in hour-long naps here and there during the mission. Clint, on the other hand, had gone three days without sleep. He felt he had earned his slumber. 

He walked up behind her and slipped an arm around her waist, burying his face in her shoulder with a groan. He could feel, rather than hear, her chuckle. That reminded him that he should probably wear his aids, so he felt blindly on the counter until Nat shoved the case into his hands. He slipped them on, rubbing his eyes and stumbling over to the coffee pot and filling a mug. 

“Hey, did you close the curtains this morning?” Clint asked as soon as he was a little more awake. Nat liked to sleep with the curtains open, so the light would wake her up, but Clint hated it. When he woke up this morning, however, the curtains had been drawn shut, the room dim. She had started making food, but she threw a small startled glance his way and nodded.

“Yeah, I closed them when I woke up. Didn’t want to wake you up before you were ready.”

Clint took a moment to bask in the fact that she had been so courteous to his sleeping habits, then crossed the small kitchen to give her a kiss.

“Thanks, Tash.”

 

  1. _You ignore the music on the radio, I don’t. I sing along._



 

“ _ OOoooh standing on your momma’s porch, you told me that you’d wait forever _ ,” Clint crooned as they sped down the highway. In the passenger seat, Natasha sighed and shifted, eyes still closed, and Clint suppressed a grin. “ _ Oh and when you held my hand, I-”  _

“Barton.” the single word alone was enough to make him snap his mouth shut. For one thing, Nat rarely called him by his last name if they weren’t in the field. For another, that tone meant ‘shut-up-or-so-help-me-God’ and God tended to be pretty helpful, when it came to Natasha. She currently had one eye open, and was eyeing him. “I love you, but if you keep singing, I will sew your mouth closed.”

“Awwww,” Clint couldn’t resist cooing at her, shit-eating grin firmly in place. “You love me, babe?”

“Not if you keep it up,” she muttered, but a quick glance at her form curled up in the seat revealed a small smile on her face. He grinned in return and hummed under his breath. 

 

  1. _I don’t ask for you to change, and you don’t ask for me to change._



 

“How does it work?” Stark asked abruptly as Clint waited for Nat’s tea to boil in the kitchen one day. Clint looked up, eyebrows raised. 

“How does what work, Stark?” Clint asked slowly. He got along fine with Stark, on all accounts. Appreciated the snark the other man had, and appreciated the neat trick arrows he made for Clint. But he often either had no tact, or didn’t care to employ it.

“Clintasha,” Stark shrugged. At Clint’s blank look, he continued. “You and Natashalie? The Widow and her Hawk, Bonnie and Clyde?”

“I know about our ‘Celeb ship name’, or whatever ExtraTv called it,” Clint said dryly, rolling his eyes. “I just don’t get the question. What do you mean ‘how does it work’? It just...does.” 

“You guys are just so not alike,” Stark shrugged again, watching as Clint poured himself more coffee, and Natasha, tea. “I mean, you like to work from a distance, she likes getting all up in there. You’re constantly hot, and we call her ‘The Russian With Tropical Blood’ because she’s always cold. She’s a cat person, you’re a dog person. Hell, you drink, breathe and  _ live _ coffee, which, cheers, by the way, and she would kill for a nice cup of tea.” 

“Ah,” Clint smiled as he grasped what Tony was getting at. “I dunno man. Opposites attract? We just don’t ask the other to change. Our differences make us work, I guess.” 

He chuckled as he walked out of the room, a mug in each hand. He handed the tea to Natasha and sank into the couch next her. 

“So, you know what Stark just asked me?”


End file.
